In these perilous times, those who dwell beyond the city walls tread carefully, trying to elicit the least attention. Only the carriages of H.A.R.M., emblazoned with their fearsome insignia, dare to traverse the open roads with impunity.

As our journey progressed, a motley caravan of merchants, drawn by the safety of our presence, fell into step behind us. Their gratitude was palpable, their guards galloping ahead to offer us baskets overflowing with fresh bread, cured meats, and sweet fruits.

"The reputation of H.A.R.M. certainly outshines our local police," Wade remarked, balancing a large pile of food. His youthful face lit up with a hint of excitement.

After two days of relentless travel, the carriages finally slowed to a halt at the foot of a colossal wall, its imposing presence a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond.

The Seattle city wall stood as a patchwork behemoth, a monument of both desperation and ingenuity. Once-gleaming skyscrapers now loomed half-collapsed, their skeletal frames filled with concrete and brick. Crumbling office façades blended seamlessly into makeshift fortifications—windows bricked up, steel beams repurposed as lookout posts.

In the chaos of the apocalypse, humans had sought refuge within these towering structures, holding out for years against the relentless onslaught of the vampires. The tide turned with the emergence of the Realm Breakers, humans who had shattered the barriers of the First Realm and wielded unimaginable power. They drove back the vampire hordes, restoring order to the city, and continued to fortify the existing structures. Newly built concrete walls connected these once-isolated buildings, creating a formidable barrier that now encircled the city.

Near the city gate, Ethan Atzmon brought the caravan to a halt. He rode ahead, conferring with the city guards. The guards meticulously recorded everyone's information, assuring us that personal ID cards would be issued within a few days.

Thirty minutes later, a military bus bearing the H.A.R.M. insignia arrived. Atzmon and three other agents disembarked, their movements brisk and efficient. The plumber and electrician relinquished control of the bloodsteeds and Solar Nomads. The recruits and their families, their luggage stowed in the bus's cargo hold, boarded the vehicle, their faces a mix of excitement and trepidation.

The bus rumbled through the city gates, passing through three heavily fortified checkpoints. The road widened dramatically, expanding into a majestic eight-lane avenue.

The sun dipped toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the city. In Pinewood County, traffic would have dwindled to a trickle, but here, the eight-lane avenue pulsed with a sense mosaic of vehicles.

The bus lurched to a stop at an unexpected location, a stark contrast to the bustling city streets we had just traversed. An imposing wall, eight feet high, stretched endlessly across the horizon, enclosing a vast expanse of land within its concrete embrace. It was as if a miniature city had been carved from Seattle's heart.

"Five hundred acres," Ethan Atzmon announced, his voice swelling with pride. "Approved by the governor himself. This is H.A.R.M. Cascadia headquarters."

He turned, sweeping his gaze over the recruits. "Follow me."

The recruits and their families followed him off the bus. Garcia, bursting with excitement, practically leaped off, exchanged a few quick words with Dave Gray, and then dashed away without so much as a goodbye to me.

The electrician guided the six recruits and their families toward a separate entrance, their footsteps reverberating through the vast space.

Atzmon guided me through a side door, its heavy metal hinges groaning as it swung open.

"There are countless rules within these walls," Dave Gray explained as he guided me through the labyrinthine complex, "but most don't concern the Purge Division. Just remember where to eat, sleep, and collect your pay."

Our first stop was the administrative office, a sterile space filled with rows of desks and filing cabinets. Atzmon, his demeanor surprisingly efficient, produced a set of uniforms, three medicine vials, and a jet-black badge. He handed them to me, his eyes lingering on my sword.

"Congratulations, you are now Agent Kane," Atzmon said with a smile. "I noticed your sword is not ordinary, so I didn't get you a new one. If you need anything else, you can come here and ask. If you don't understand anything, just ask Dave."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Dave Gray cleared his throat, a hint of unease in his voice. "Where will he be staying?"

Atzmon hesitated, his gaze shifting towards the door. "Follow Colonel Hightower's instructions," he said finally, his tone clipped.

Gray's eyebrows shot up. "Why bother others?" he muttered under his breath.

I observed the exchange in silence, a sense of foreboding creeping over me.

Gray sighed, leading me deeper into the compound. "Typically, Purge Division agents reside in the west sector..."

After what felt like an eternity, we found ourselves before a secluded courtyard. Gray paused at the entrance, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Be careful," he said, his voice heavy with unspoken meaning.

"What place is this?" I asked, my voice echoing in the stillness.

Dave Gray's voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "This is the admiral's personal residence, shared with his five disciples. Two are H.A.R.M. generals, one a lieutenant colonel, another a renowned Vampire Hunter, and the last... a newcomer, only five months in, but already a three-star major."

He paused, his eyes scanning the seemingly ordinary courtyard. "Notice anything unusual? No guards, no patrols. That's because, aside from the admiral himself, the other residents are two Crystal Realm masters, two at Wave Realm Perfection, and one at the intermediate stage."

He let out a low whistle. "And you, with nothing but a letter of recommendation, are about to reside in this yard alongside them."

A nervous laugh escaped his lips. "I'm not sure if this is a blessing or a curse. As they say, the taller the tree, the stronger the wind."

Dave Gray shook his head, bewilderment etched on his face. What could the colonel be thinking? He found himself more aligned with the mindset of the regular captains than with hers.

"Forget it," he said with a sigh, his shoulders slumping. "Let's just go inside."

Dave Gray ducked his head and rushed inside, as if entering a dragon's lair.

Dave's words, combined with Butcher Garcia's earlier gossip, confirmed my suspicions about Rose's identity. The colonel, the Vampire Hunter, the enigmatic woman who had briefly entered my life only to vanish just as swiftly—they were one and the same.

But her intentions remained shrouded in mystery.

As we entered the courtyard, a scene of serenity unfolded before us. Beneath the shade of an ancient locust tree, a shirtless young man sat on a stone bench, his muscles rippling as he meticulously shelled beans. Across from him, a silver-haired woman tended to a patch of delicate seedlings, her touch gentle and precise. The air hummed with a peaceful energy, a stark contrast to the tension that permeated the rest of the compound.

It was a scene of quiet domesticity, a hidden oasis within the heart of H.A.R.M.'s formidable fortress.

"Dave Gray from the Purge Division," Dave announced, his voice strained with forced cheerfulness. He ushered me forward, his grip firm on my arm. "I've brought Agent Kane, as instructed. Major Vierkant, this is—"

"I know. I've received Rose's letter," Max Vierkant interrupted, his eyes still fixed on the beans he was meticulously shelling. The old woman beside him, however, glanced up, her gaze brimming with curiosity.

"Excellent, excellent," Dave stammered, his discomfort evident. He gestured towards me. "Kane, come meet Major Vierkant. Or perhaps 'Senior Brother Vierkant' would be more fitting?"

Vierkant shrugged, his tone nonchalant. "Don't call me senior brother. Just Max will do."

Dave Gray felt a twinge of embarrassment at these words and suppressed an inward sigh.

Evidently, a mere letter of recommendation wasn't sufficient to secure such a prestigious position.

"Young man," the old woman's voice cut through the awkward silence, "have you no manners? Look at the person you're addressing." She punctuated her words with a swat to the back of Vierkant's head.

Vierkant, seemingly accustomed to the old woman's admonishment, finally looked up, his gaze meeting mine. He gestured towards the smallest house in the courtyard. "You'll stay there for now," he said tersely. "I'll settle Rose's debt to you."

Dave Gray's confusion deepened. The situation was becoming increasingly bizarre.

I, however, felt a wave of relief wash over me. The pieces were falling into place.

It wasn't that I didn't have any expectations. But such a big pie falling from the sky, was more than I dare to accept.

Now that I finally understood the reason, I felt much more at ease.

The promise of two Wave Realm techniques I had extracted from Rose lingered in my mind. The Harmonious Quartet had fulfilled half of that bargain. After everything that had transpired, I'd assumed she might have forgotten about it. To my surprise, she was taking it quite seriously.

The formality of the situation, coupled with the fact that the man before me was also the admiral's disciple, suggested that the technique he was about to impart was of considerable value, likely on par with the Harmonious Quartet.

"Well then," Dave Gray said, sensing his presence was no longer needed. He shot me a sympathetic glance, silently acknowledging the awkward encounter with Max Vierkant. The curt dismissal, he assumed, must have wounded my pride.

“…” I shot him a glare and turned to enter the small house.

The new uniform, crafted from fine wool gabardine, was a luxurious upgrade from my worn police attire. Its water-resistant fabric felt smooth against my skin, the dark material serving as a perfect backdrop for the gleaming H.A.R.M. insignia. Even the badge of ordinary agents boasted subtle gemstones—no wonder Butcher Garcia had envied H.A.R.M.'s opulence.

I picked up the small medicine vials, their contents unknown. Ethan Atzmon had offered no explanation, but their presence alongside the uniform and badge suggested their importance. Was this the legendary elixir that fueled H.A.R.M.'s warriors?

With the badge proudly hang on my belt and the Black Silver at my side, I prepared to venture out and explore my new surroundings.

Just then, the old woman's voice called out from the courtyard, "Young man, come and have some dinner."